Shooting Straight
by S-Chrome
Summary: Now, when Ron Stoppable starts bringing the truth to light, you know something either very bad, or very weird, is going to happen.


Shooting Straight  
By S-Chrome

Disclaimer: We are all aware that any of the characters you see in this story are owned by Disney. And by owned, I don't mean "pwned,"

Or do I?

* * *

We're talking about practice? What are we talking about… practice? Come on, man, we're talking about… practice! 

Yes, we were talking about practice. And, speaking of which, Ron was headed for his. Who would have thought that after three years of being that scrawny, lanky shrimp that he would become Middleton High's starting halfback on the football team? Not him… well, not after he temporarily borrowed a certain super-suit from a certain red-haired girl that happened to be his girlfriend.

Despite his new status, he would still have the usual problems that came with being kind of an iconoclast, even if he was a senior. But the freckle-faced young man would take it all in stride. Besides, when high school was over and done with in the next six months or so, the… _'Nightmare' _would be over.

He went through the gymnasium of Middleton High, not much of anything on his mind, until he felt a little trip. Well, actually, he was tripped.

With all the grace of an offensive lineman after a couple of trips to the salad bar, Ron fell to the floor. Why would someone do that to him? He wanted to know what he did to deserve to have such a dirty trick played on him.

"And here I was thinking that all football players were supposed to have balance."

OK… at least his question was solved. Ron looked at the mean-spirited leer of Bonnie Rockwaller above him.

"Ah… Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie," he retorted as he got up and brushed himself off. "Does it ever get old?"

"You, being a loser, Stoppable, oh, no, that never gets old," she replied, the vile smile never wavering.

"Oh, yeah…. I know all about it. Ron's a loser. Ron's a pink sloth. Ron smells of overripe fruit. I've heard it all, Bonnie. Don't you know it doesn't have any effect on me anymore?"

Bonnie was surprised to see that this conversation wasn't done with. Usually she would just throw out an insult, the loser would give a weak response, and she would sneer and walk away, totally ignoring what he had to say. This time, though, she was interested in how she was going to shut this insignificant little flunkey down.

"No effect, huh?" She asked, crossing her arms. "If what I say has no effect, then how come you're still squawking about it?"

Heh… that little question would be good enough to shut him up. Her trademark smirk came out again.

"I'm still squawking about it, as you would say, because I think it's time that you let yourself go, Bonnie. Let your feelings go."

"What feelings?" She queried, aquamarine eyes narrowing toward him.

"What feelings?! What feelings?!" Ron mocked.

"Don't mock me!" The cheerleader ordered. She took a step closer to the blond in a threatening manner.

"Nine years ago," Ron began. "Northern Middleton Elementary – 1998, Third Grade… when we didn't have a care in the world, when we were all… innocent. "

"Look over there," he points with an index finger behind the cheerleader. "There's little Bonnie Rockwaller, standing there all alone at recess. She keeps a keen eye on a classmate of hers, Kim Possible, and her weird, but loyal friend, Ron Stoppable running about. They do everything together: they play together, they laugh together, they sit together… they even trade lunches – together. It's so warm, so touching. Little Bonnie stands there, silently yearning for someone like that. Someone to be intimately close to, someone to keep her company and away from her dreaded sisters, someone to be the Ron to her Kim… but alas, the pains of childhood… she never did have a friend like that."

"I had plenty of friends!" Bonnie cut in, furious at Ron's description.

"Oh, yes… Yes you did. But what happened to them?" Ron asked. He didn't wait around for Bonnie to answer. "2002! Four years later…. We weren't silly little kids anymore, were we? We started caring about things… like clothing, appearance… popularity, and the cliques that we hung out with. Look at Bonnie Rockwaller now! She's thirteen, she's got her crew with her… but it wasn't enough, was it? She sees girls like Amelia and thinks to herself, 'Look at her, she's so cool. Look how she carries herself. I want to be popular like her.' All of a sudden, friendship and acceptance didn't mean that much to you, popularity was everything… and your friends fell by the wayside. You got rid of them like people get rid of old clothes that don't fit them."

"But… they were all losers… all of them," Bonnie defended. "Losers like you!" She declared, pointing a finger in his face.

Ron chuckled quietly. "Losers like me… Yes, losers like me. Which brings forth Kim Possible at thirteen, and… what's she doing with that guy? In fact, who is that awkward-looking guy with the Naked Mole Rat in his pocket? Why, that's Ron Stoppable, that weird friend of hers. Only this time, he's not weird anymore, he's a loser. I bet you, Bonnie, even at thirteen, wondered why she kept that loser around her…"

Bonnie sneered again. "I wondered then, I wonder now. Speaking of… where is Kim? She's fifteen minutes late…"

"Out on a mission… another Doomsday Device…" He answered absent-mindedly. "But, back to my point, wondered and pondered and ruminated. Heck, you pondered for years about why Kim would keep a loser like me around. It defies all logic! That's not the way of the Food Chain! At first, you probably think… 'Oh, they're just friends from way back in the days; the Chain'll catch up to them.' Then, after sophomore and junior year, you're practically wracking your brain…. 'He's not special… he's just a common froob!' But, we know better than that, don't we, Bonnie?"

"How do _we _know better?"

"Oh… come on, Bonnie... think back!" He commanded. "Ron Stoppable wasn't always a loser. Why, when I saved you and the rest of the squad from becoming fishy mutants, I was still a loser, but I was a hero. Then! Ron got himself a new hairdo… Wait a minute, he doesn't look too bad, does he, Bonnie?"

Ron caught the changing expression on the tanned beauty's face.

"Hold the phone. When Ron becomes a columnist for the school paper, he's not too bad at all. In fact, he's almost reputable. Hey, look at that! Ron is practically the sixth member of Oh Boyz… Hey, Ron is kind of cool… and kind of cute, too. Heck, let's not forget when I got rich…"

"Wait a minute… that's because," she attempted to explain herself.

"Oh, No… No excuses, Bonnie. Reee-wind, less than two years ago, the Naco royalty check comes in… nearly nine figures just for me! And just like that…" Ron snapped a finger as fast as a lightning bolt. "…all of a sudden, Bonnie is hot for Ron. Bonnie can't get enough of Ron. Bonnie is practically in love…" he paused to take it all in. "…with Ron," he whispered, fanning himself for effect.

With embarrassment wracking her, Bonnie couldn't speak up in defense of herself. Ron took the moment to draw closer to her.

"And… keep this between you and I; I still got a couple of mills stashed up for a rainy day."

"Really?" She asked, wide-eyed.

He nodded in a manner of any old hotshot. He knew that he was beginning to pull the girl in. By this time, a couple of Bonnie's cheerleading counterparts, sans Kim of course, came to see what Bonnie and Ron were conversing about.

"But at the end of it all, I was, once again, a loser to you. But that's OK. You made it crystal to me then. So now I know…"

"Know what?" Bonnie and a couple of the other cheerleaders queried.

"I know that you, Bonnie, have feelings for me," he replied in a smug tone.

"Feelings for a freak like you? Don't be ridiculous," Bonnie replied flippantly.

"Is it – so ridiculous, Bonnie?" He asked, taking a half a step closer to her. "See, I know the way you look at me… disgust, disdain, disregard, but it's all a façade. Because, the one second that I get a little bit of good press, you're all over me like that proverbial cheap suit. Because I know how you_ really_ look at me… and I would bet that you dreams; dreams about me – looking back at you."

Liz, Marcella, and Tara now joined the semi-circle around the footballer and the cheerleader. Bonnie didn't reply. Either she was too outraged to dignify what he said with a response, or there was some truth to his claim.

Satisfied with her silence, Ron took another confident step toward her. "You dream about me, don't you? You dream about what could have been. You dream about me being your… special friend. You dream about molding and formulating the Ron you see before you into your perfect specimen. You dream about us together on that Prom dance floor. I mean, look at our names, B: Bonnie and Ron! They just sound so good together, don't they?"

Bonnie still didn't reply.

"Ron and Bonnie, or Ron & Bon, or BonRon… Just sounds good, doesn't it? Just rolls off the tip of your tongue, don't it, Bon-Bon?

Amazingly, the brunette bombshell slightly nodded her head. The other cheerleaders exchanged curious glances with one another.

"And after that… you have daydreams about us going steady, and one day, one fine day, marrying The Ron. You probably get all giddy at the thought of becoming Mrs. Bonnie Stoppable.

The girls around Bonnie shook their heads in disbelief. Others chuckled at the sheer ludicrousness of the former mascot's claims. Bonnie stood there, her breath becoming more labored as Ron continued.

"Admit it, Bonnie. You get that warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of your stomach whenever you insult and put me down. Just to see me look at you gives you that buzz. You don't know why you get that feeling…. But you just couldn't live without it, could you?"

The freckle-faced boy's voice became lower and smoother as he undressed the truth.

"Admit it, Bonnie. You get _wet—_"

The cheer squad gasped at his crass, bold assertion.

"—with perspiration, standing this close to me."

Well, he wasn't wrong about that. A few beads if sweat fell upon the brunette's nervous face. The cheerleaders clearly saw the apprehension painted on the usually stoic Bonnie. This couldn't be true, could it? Ron was so confident in his words that it just couldn't be a lie. The girl's breath grew more ragged and labored by the moment, hinting to the other girls just what the truth was.

"So, Bonnie…" He began softly. He took a moment to deftly brush away a stray strand of hair from her timid eyes. At this moment, he was about as close to Bonnie without touching her flawless skin. "K.P.'s not around… Would you like to go… One-on-one with The Ron?" He asked with a mischievous grin on his face and a mysterious gleam in his eye.

His words, his delivery, his charm, and above all that, his confidence… all of it was tearing away at the girl's resolve. Where did all of this come from? Where the heck was _this _Ron when he _didn't _have a girlfriend? The brunette's knees grew as weak as an infant's; her breathing pattern mimicked a marathon runner who just finished up with a race, and on top of all that, that warm, fuzzy feeling that Ron spoke on minutes ago was all over her body now. Ron had her dead to rights – and the only way to try and quell this overpowering warmth was to submit.

She gripped his shoulder as if she was going to fall into a bottomless abyss if she let go.

"More than anything in the world, Ron," she answered breathlessly.

The cheer girls gasped at the brunette's admission. Tara, of course, ran out of the gymnasium in tears. Why couldn't she ever be asked if she wanted to go one-on-one with The Ron?

The smooth blond took Bonnie by the hand and led her away from the stunned squad.

"Are you sure about going one-on-one with… The Ron?" He asked.

Aquamarine orbs stared back at him.

"Yes," she whispered.

"This could get you and me into a lot of trouble, you know?"

"I don't care!" She replied passionately.

"Well. then… meet me here after practice in about two hours," he said, handing her a small card. "Got to run, Bon-Bon, I hope to see you real soon."

"Oh, I'll be there," the love-struck Bonnie replied. She watched him disappear into the tunnel toward the football field. After he was out of her view, she gripped the nearest sturdy object and near fainted right there.

* * *

"So you gave her a fake address? You are horrible, Ron!" Monique exclaimed to a smug Ron Stoppable. 

Horrible, Ron wasn't. He was just getting in his karma. He shook his head at Monique's indication before he took a heaving bite of his naco. Yes, this was the life…. Chilling at Bueno Nacho with his closest friends… and not going one-on-one with Bonnie.

"Hey!" Ron countered. "Number one: it was a real address. I just don't know whose house it was. Number two: Kim's idea. Not mine."

"I still can't believe she fell all over you like that," Kim Possible, the teen heroine, and Ron's girlfriend said in disbelief from the other side of their booth.

"Oh, yeah, K.P., a little confidence goes a long way," he explained before scarfing down another victory naco.

"Yeah, and so does a little restraint," she remarked.

"Oh, come on, Kim. It was all a rouse. You'd really think I'd really dump you in favor of Bonnie?"

Ron spoke up before Kim could have a chance to answer.

"Uh, No way!" Ron exclaimed. He reached across the table and took the redhead's hand.

"K.P., there is just no way I'd leave you for anybody," he smiled warmly at her. "I'm sticking to you like melted cheese on a chimmerito."

Both Monique and Rufus scratched their heads in confusion.

"Was that supposed to be a compliment?" She asked the mole rat.

Rufus shrugged. "Iono," he replied.

Whether it was or not, Kim gobbled it up like a Christmas ham. "Aw, Ron," she beamed at the blond. Both teen heroine and sidekick leaned across the table and kissed gently. Monique and Rufus looked on… albeit with kind of ambiguous expression on their faces. But, hey, who cared about their expressions? Kim and Ron were together, and nothing was going to come between them, and especially not a certain elitist cheerleader.

Speaking of an elitist cheerleader…

* * *

Bonnie checked herself out once again with her hand-held mirror before stepping to the front step of the house. Primping herself one last time for good measure, she rang the doorbell, hot0blooded thoughts about Ron still fresh in her head. 

"Mmm," she growled, licking her lips in anticipation. "I hope you're ready for me, Ronnie, because I'm ready for—"

The door opened. "Wow…" the resident said, slack-jawed.

"What the?"

"Finally… I knew you changed your mind about me. Come on in, I've got D&D all warmed up," Larry Possible, the extremely nerdy cousin to Kim Possible said, ushering her inside.

Bonnie's scream could probably be heard in the next county.

* * *

The End 

Chrome Notes: It's kinda tough for a Bon/Ron fan like me to come to grips with the fact that the elitist and the goofy mascot/runningback will never get together. Well, actually, it's not that tough.

But, didn't nobody say nothing about me not writing more of this stuff. :o

For those who are wondering, this is not a sequel of 'Straight Shooter,' but more of a canon counter to it.

Anyway… Review and what-not. Or, if reviewing ain't quite your thing, you can point and laugh at how B/R will never... eevvvver happen.


End file.
